Worth the Risk (2 page)

Hannah parked off to the side of the barn, waited for the swirl of dust to clear, and asked herself again,
What the hell did I just do?
She didn’t talk to strangers. Not in grocery stores. Not in parking lots. Not ever. Until today.

He’d caught her at a weak moment, and then…he’d just caught her. Completely unignorable with his crooked smile and hint of dimples to counter a dangerously hot man. And obviously not the type to take no for an answer. Any other day she would have brushed him off easily. Any other day, her usual awareness of her surroundings would have staved off any interaction in the first place.

She got out and made her way across the grass and gravel parking area. Inside the barn, the air pulsed with the feel of live animals; the scents of their bodies, their feed, and their home. Old wood and manure greeted her like an old friend. It was here in this place she mostly hid, going unnoticed and unseen. Being noticed made her antsy, edgy. She’d felt that way with Stephen, but she’d also felt something else. Something like an opportunity.

He didn’t know her, not her last name, not where she lived or worked. In a very weird way, that made it feel safe. A public place, she wouldn’t go anywhere else. And she didn’t want to be with her brothers tonight. Didn’t really want to be alone either. Stephen had given her an out. With Luke home on leave, she had one more nosy brother to dodge and now she could do it without lying.

Her palomino, Winnie, blew hot horsey breath in greeting then bumped her shoulder. “Hey now, what did we talk about? You already had your treat for the day.” She gave Winnie’s caramel neck a pat and moved on.

When she’d greeted the four horses in the barn, she went into the tack room, illuminated by a single yellow bulb hanging from the ceiling. She breathed in the smell of old leather and oil as she gathered the special saddle pads and straps she needed for her first student.

“Hannah?”

“Yeah, in here.”

Her assistant, Lexie, came around the corner. There were only seven horses total. Not exactly a farm that required hired hands, but Lexie had always been here, and when the original owners died, she stayed. Stout and sturdy and of undermined age, she helped lift the heavier students into the saddle.

“Hey, girl. I expected you earlier. Everything okay?”

Hannah stared hard at the bridle in her hands. Adjusted the buckle that didn’t need adjusting. “No, um…they had to put Max to sleep.”

“Shit.”

Hannah had to smile at the sentiment even as she blinked back a new wave of tears. “I’m okay. And I’m sorry. He was kind of your dog too.” The previous owners, and closest thing Hannah had ever had to grandparents, had left it all to her. The house, the barn, the land. And the dog. He’d lived with her, slept with her, but everyone loved him. Which meant she’d have to tell the kids at some point.

Hard-edged Lexie sniffed. “He was a damn good dog. Nothing else needs to be said.”

No. There was nothing else to say. The sound of a car door closing signaled it was time to pull it together. With a deep breath she wiped her eyes and went out to greet her first student with a smile. She wouldn’t throw a shadow over this child’s time here. It meant too much. Eighteen months ago, a drunk driver had run Allie’s family van off the road. She’d lost her mother, a baby brother, and her right leg just below the knee. She was six years old.

“Hey, squirt.”

“Hi, Hannah.”

She took Allie from her father’s arms and caught the relief in his eyes. He’d lost so much, and she got the sense he was hanging by a thinner thread than usual. “I have some extra horses that need brushing today. Mind if I put your girl to work when she’s finished?”

Allie’s eyes danced with excitement, her father’s with gratitude. He ran his hand through his hair. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She met his gaze with understanding. “Just make sure you stay gone an extra hour.”

As always, they began Allie’s therapy with grooming. Hannah held out an arm, offering as little assistance as possible as Allie balanced on her new prosthetic. They talked and worked. She’d only known Allie a few months, but she loved her.

When Hazel was ready, Lexie supported Allie in the saddle while Hannah fastened the special straps around the girl’s waist and thighs.

“Okay, girlfriend. You ready to ride?”

“Ready.” Allie sat tall and proud, her eyes bright under the bill of the velvet riding helmet. Her grin was wide enough to reveal a tiny gap from her first lost tooth.

Hannah smiled back. After more surgeries than she could count and years of therapy learning to walk again, she knew that joy firsthand. She understood how riding a horse lifted you up, leveled the playing field, and gave you a borrowed strength. Understood the sense of power and confidence. The freedom and fresh air after the stink and general misery of the PT room.

Using Hazel’s steady gait, they spent an hour strengthening Allie’s core and balance, learning to compensate for the part that wasn’t there anymore. When they were finished, Hannah led them across the lower pasture to a strip of trees. She fingered the lead rope loosely in her hand and waited, giving Allie room to talk if she wanted.

The rhythmic steps of hooves on newborn grass and Hazel’s horsey breath joined the sound of trickling water. Sunlight filtered down as they followed a path along a shallow creek that wound its way around three-quarters of the property. It wasn’t a huge piece of land, nothing fancy, but it was her home, her livelihood, and at one time had been her salvation.

“I think maybe I should cut my hair.”

Hannah glanced up at the dark strands hanging in a long ponytail down her back. “Do you want to cut it?”

“I don’t know.” Allie let out a long breath much too weary for such a tiny girl. “It might be easier. My mom used to braid it,” she added softly.

And there was the real problem. She could only imagine the pain in this little girl’s heart. Having a mother, knowing her, then losing her. She wanted to take Allie off the horse, hug her tight and never let go, but she looked up and smiled. “I think your hair would look cute short. You’ve got the face for it. Not everyone does, you know.”

“Do you remember your mom?”

Allie knew Hannah’s mother was dead, they’d covered that common bond on the first day. “No. But I was really little when my parents died, way younger than you,” she assured her. “Practically a baby. But I always had my brothers.” Hannah pointed as they stepped out of the trees. “There’s my bossiest brother now.”

Her oldest brother, Nick, stood leaning against the hood of his SUV, looking like the formidable FBI agent he was. Nick was tall and handsome; his hair was dark brown to her light and he wore the perpetual unshaven look well. It gave him a tough look just short of scary.

He lifted his hand and she waved back. Afraid she couldn’t tell him about Max without crying, she’d texted him. And now he was here, checking on her like he always did. Her brothers had raised her, sacrificed for her. Nick more than any of them.

Lexie met them and took Hazel and Allie into the barn. Hannah turned to find Nick’s cop eyes full of concern.
That
was the look she couldn’t spend an entire night with.

“I’m okay. I’m sad, but I’m okay.”

Nick said nothing for several seconds, just gave her his I-can-read-your-mind stare. “I talked to Luke and Zach. They’re fine with changing plans tonight.”

“I knew you’d say that.” She headed into the barn to get ready for her next student, leaving Nick to follow. “You don’t need to change your plans.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell not sitting home alone.”

“You’re right. I’m not.” She stepped into the tack room and Nick stopped just outside.

“Really?”

“Yes. Really. You can still have your guy party. I have plans.”

“Plans?”

“Yes.” She looked back at him and smiled. “I can have plans, you know.”

“I know you can, you just…”

“What?” She reached for a piece of support foam. “Never do?

He leaned against the doorway, watching her. “Where are you going?”

“Drinks.”

“With who?”

She stepped around him and moved down the aisle for Big Ben, a small chestnut pony. “A friend.”

“A friend.” He said it full of suspicion and disdain for someone he didn’t know. Big-brother syndrome plus FBI equaled over-the-top.

“I also manage to have friends.” Kind of. She slipped the halter over the pony’s head.

“Where are you going?”

She speared him with a glare over her shoulder.

“Okay. Sorry.” He held up his hands. “But why don’t you and your
friend
come over to watch the game?”

“No.”

“No?”

Hannah tilted her head. “Is there an echo in here?”

“On top of not knowing who this
friend
is, I don’t like the idea of you coming home at night to an empty house.” Immediately he looked remorseful and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry.”

She blew out a shaky breath before speaking. “It’s fine. Dogs don’t live forever, you knew that when I moved out here.” Something he’d been adamantly against, but having the dog had helped.

She loved her four brothers, and she wouldn’t say they suffocated her, though the hum of their hovering could be deafening at times. FBI, Special Forces, firefighter, cop. It was like her very own big-brother protection force. And every one of them liked to be in charge and in control. Especially Nick. If they knew she was going out with a man, let alone a man she didn’t know, they’d freak. Even if it was for their own good.

“I know how to lock a door.”

“I know you do.”

She met her brother’s worried eyes, and not for the first time thought what it must have been like for him at nineteen, suddenly responsible for four siblings. Then she thought of how much more she’d put him through. Put them all through.

If they were ever going to believe she was really okay, if
she
was going to believe it, she had to prove it. Time to push herself out of her comfort zone. For herself. For all of them.

It was nearly five by the time Hannah drove through the woods from the barn to her house. Few people knew the tiny cabin even existed. Wild dogwoods had just begun spreading their leaves, filling in the space between the pines. Soon she wouldn’t be able to make out the barn from her porch at all. Surrounded. Hidden. The way she liked it.

Which made this whole meeting for drinks thing so far out of character, she didn’t recognize herself. But maybe that was the point. Maybe she needed a little different if she was ever going to
be
different.

She slid out and climbed the three wide steps to the porch and entered her wooded refuge alone. Funny how just the sound of an animal breathing, the thumping of a tail, and the clicks of doggy nails on wood floor could fill a home. It was dead quiet.

No dog on the shaggy rug under the oak coffee table. No one to shoo off the leather couch. The main room opened into the kitchen, leading her eyes straight to the silver bowls on the floor. She should empty them, put them away. But not yet.

She headed to the shower, trying not to picture Max, and instead pictured the handsome man who’d wanted to have dinner with her. She hadn’t felt her usual heart-racing panic. Not so much of the irrational fear she was working to overcome but hadn’t quite managed yet. Instead there’d been a flutter in her stomach, a heat and tingle when her small hand had slipped into his large one. Warm and gentle for such a big man.

She showered, replaying the rules her brothers had drilled into her over the years, assuring herself she wasn’t breaking any. She’d broken a rule twelve years ago and it had nearly ruined all their lives. She stepped out of the hot water, wrapped her hair tightly in a towel, and piled it on top of her head. The steam-covered mirror blocked her reflection, but still, she closed her eyes as she dried her body.

She didn’t feel the marks over a decade old, didn’t feel the crisscrossing pink and purple lines. She inhaled the scent of vanilla and lavender lotion and pretended just for a moment they weren’t there. That she was normal. Inside and out.

But she wasn’t, and they were there.

Her brothers thought they needed to remind her to be careful and cautious. They didn’t. All she had to do was look at herself. Ugly. Marked.

She knew what a knife could do. What a man could do. How he could strike and slice and break your body until he broke your soul.

After a short drive into town, Hannah stopped at the valet in front of Reno’s, heart pounding, damp palms gripping the steering wheel. Maybe she wasn’t ready. And she might have slipped right on through the parking lot and straight back home, but for the baby-faced attendant who opened her door and offered his hand.

Just inside the restaurant, one she’d only heard of in terms of how impossible it was to get a table, she was greeted by a pretty little hostess in a black, knee-length cocktail dress. “Good evening. Welcome to Reno’s.”

“Thank you.” She wiped her hands on her silky black pants. She didn’t own dresses, so this and a flowing top would have to do. Zach bought her clothes for Christmas, or rather his current girlfriend helped him make online purchases. Rarely needed, but tonight she was grateful. She’d added sandals with tiny gems and for once left her hair down.

“A table?”

“I’m um…meeting someone, but I…” She looked past the girl into the elegant bar area.

“Mr. McKinney?”

“What?”

“You’re meeting Stephen McKinney?”

How could she know that? Had Stephen told her?
Described
her? “Yes. I am.”

“He’s waiting at the bar. Just through there.” She gestured with her hand. “Or I can get him if you’d like.”

So he came here often enough to be known. And the woman in front of her looked all too eager to
get
him herself. Probably not a murderer then. Probably
.
“No. I’ll find him. Thank you.”

Excitement warred with nervous energy as she moved into the darkened space. Delicate glasses clinked among conversations and laughter, soft light and shiny people. Heads turned, casually taking in the stranger entering their midst.

She spotted Stephen easily. He stood at least half a head above the rest, looking completely at ease, his forearm resting against the bar, a glass of clear liquid in his hand. Nerves fluttered and she stared, undecided which way to go, advance or retreat. Then he looked up. His hot gaze locked with hers and he crossed the room like a cat approaching prey. He was wearing black dress pants as he had this morning, his white shirt revealing a hint of dark hair at his open collar. Absolutely lethal.

“Hi.” He leaned in, brushed his lips against her cheek. “You came.”

“Yes.” The subtle scent of aftershave combined with the sheer size of him and the silky caress of his freshly shaven cheek did funny things to her stomach. And other parts.

A woman in a backless top bumped him in the crowded space and turned. “Stephen.” Her voice was low and sultry, her dark eyes flared with recognition. She casually sipped her tiny purple drink with fruity things floating on top and took in Hannah over the rim. Easily dismissing her, she swung a faintly amused gaze back to Stephen. “I see now how
busy
you were.”

“I think my exact words were, something came up,” Stephen said pleasantly.

Not seeming overly concerned, the woman gave a small nod of understanding and an undaunted smile before she spun away with her female friend.

When he turned his focus back on her, all she could think was that this man was so far out of her league. If she even had a league. Which she didn’t. Thinking to end this charade swiftly, she opened her mouth to thank him and make a quick exit.

“Your table’s ready,” the hostess interrupted, and motioned toward the main dining room.

Table?

He angled his head down close to her ear. “I hope you don’t mind. We can still have a drink at the bar if you want.”

“No. It’s…fine.” And really hard to think with Stephen’s hand splayed at her lower back, guiding her with gentle pressure behind the hostess.

Stephen pulled out her chair at a table for four like a perfect gentleman, then, instead of taking the seat across from her, he sat directly to her left.

The waiter promptly introduced himself and reeled off the specials as Stephen gave the wine list a once-over. “Do you have a preference?”

No. She didn’t know wine. Didn’t eat or drink fancy food. Didn’t really drink at all. And had made a date for drinks with a fancy man.
Brilliant, Hannah. Excellent decision making.
“I’m good with water.”

He ordered an iced tea, then turned his undivided attention on her. “I thought we could have dinner. It’s quieter here, easier for us to talk.”

Talk. Right. Which would be good if she had any idea what to say. She smiled, nodded, still getting used to being this close to him.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Neither was I.” She tried to smile under his scrutiny, twirled a piece of hair around her finger, caught herself, and let it go. “You had other plans tonight?”

“I did. And then I didn’t.” He picked up his water glass and leaned back. “And so did you, if I remember.” The corners of his mouth turned up the slightest bit, his deep brown eyes exuding every bit of confidence she didn’t feel.

“Yeah.” She bit her lip, wishing she hadn’t brought it up. “I had this thing with my brothers.”

“Ah.” He drew out the word like he’d just uncovered an important secret. Like it was everything he needed to know.

Luckily the waiter arrived before she could make another verbal stumble. He asked for their order and her hands flew to the menu. Seconds ticked by as she scanned too many choices.

“Should I come back?”

A woman laughed across the room, her shimmering silk catching the light as she leaned into the man next to her. Hannah felt the heat creeping into her cheeks. Bad idea. This had been
such
a bad idea. She didn’t belong here.

“What about the filet medallions?” Stephen suggested. “Or you can think about it. No rush.”

“Yes.” She snapped her menu closed. “That’s good. Great. I’ll have that.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, at least on her part. Stephen looked perfectly relaxed. He sipped his iced tea, the heavy watch around his thick wrist reflected the candlelight. He had big hands. So…male. Radiating confidence with his commanding presence, while she was pretty sure she was radiating the opposite. Maybe next time she should consider
stepping
out of her comfort zone, instead of giving herself a full-out shove.

He stared at her and she found herself wanting to do the same to him. To gaze at that perfect mix of gorgeous and hard edge. At eyes like smooth melted chocolate. His lips firm and masculine. She wondered—

“I hope the rest of your day was better.”

It took her a second to think. Oh, right. He’d seen her crying and she knew from her brothers that nothing made a man more uncomfortable than a girl crying. “Yes. It was. Sorry about that.”

“No problem. I have a sister and…” His eyes locked with hers. “I’m not scared away that easily.”

Her lungs seemed to freeze up at his look, his tone, and she glanced over the white-cloth-covered table, searching for something to say. “How was your day?”

“It was good.” Surprise touched his eyes and his lips curved past half smile straight into deadly zone. “So you ride horses?”

Her heart dropped with a burst of panic. He shouldn’t know where she lived. “What?”

“You had on riding pants earlier. Boots.”

“Oh. Yeah.” She took a calming breath, willed her pulse to slow before she started to sweat. “I’m a physical therapist, but with horses. It’s called hippotherapy.”

“Interesting. So you make people feel better.”

“I hope so. That’s the goal, anyway.”

“I’m sure you do.” The look in his eyes and the tone of his voice left no room for uncertainty. Like if he said it, it must be true.

The waiter interrupted with their appetizers and gave her something to focus on other than the ultra-intense man beside her. Though sitting this close to him, even eating took concentration. She took a small sip of water and tried to relax. “What about you?”

He cut into his filet. “Real estate and property development. Hotels mostly. Resorts.”

“So you make people feel better too, I guess. If it’s a nice hotel.”

“I never thought about it like that, but yes.”

She reached for her water again and bumped the glass, nearly tipping it. Stephen righted it with sharp reflexes and a steady hand, his warm fingers brushing against hers. As much as he was calm and cool, she was taut and twitchy.

“My mom called me the king of spills,” he said and casually sipped his iced tea.

“That’s hard to believe.” More like impossible, but he was trying to make her feel better.

“It’s true. Though I usually blamed it on whichever brother was sitting beside me. Or better yet, my sister.” Amusement warmed his eyes and in turn warmed her.

“How many brothers?” she asked as the waiter set down their entrees and left.

“Five brothers. One sister.”

“Oh, Lord. Poor girl.”

He laughed, a deep male rumbling sound that made her smile. “Trust me, there is nothing poor about Lizzy. She’s been busting our balls since she was in the cradle.”

“Are you the oldest?”

“No. Tony’s the oldest. Then Matt, Andrew, me, Patrick, Lizzy, and J.T. She’s almost the youngest, but still in charge. What about you?”

“Four brothers, all older.”

“I bet you ran the poor guys ragged.”

She’d caused them a lot of trouble for sure. Had there ever been the good kind of trouble? The fun kind? “Yeah, I guess, but…it was a different situation. They’re all a lot older, and…our parents died when I was two.”

Stephen paused and returned his fork to the edge of his plate. He covered her hand with his, made a light caress with his thumb. “I’m sorry.”

The soft expression in his eyes combined with his touch had her heart melting, her guard slipping. “It turned out okay. I was raised by wolves, but…” She shrugged and he uncovered her hand.

“You don’t look like you were raised by wolves.”

He picked up his fork as he spoke and, dear God, that lopsided, dimpled grin could kill a woman. She forced her attention to her plate lest she become the next casualty.

“My sister might say the same thing. About the wolves,” he added.

And just like that he had her smiling again, the tension easing, and they fell into easy conversation about families. He shared childhood antics of the McKinney boys, and her nervous stomach eased as she ate and listened, so completely sucked in by his smooth voice and the movement of his lips when he talked.

They lingered over coffee and dessert, two hours passing more easily than she ever thought they could. Twenty-six years old and she’d lived through her first date. Well, the dinner portion anyway.